Island
City is
set in Mumbai but its premise would be relevant to any megapolis in the world.
Come to think of it, the film may purportedly be about this big city or any big
city, but with a tweak here and there it could fit just as well into a less
imposing setting.

Ruchika Oberoi makes her
directorial debut with a cinematic triptych about the robotic nature of too many
lives in this world. The film covers an employee who mechanically follows a
routine and his bosses’ instructions, a wife who makes a show of mourning the possible
loss of a boorish husband, and a daughter who goes along with her parents’
choice of groom because she feels no other man would be interested in her and she
has not even considered a life without one.

Though the urban
backdrop may seem crucial to the narrative, it is not. Take away the swanky
office and dictatorial organisation, and that employee could still be a worker
in small-town India glad that he has a job, any job, rather than one that
excites him. Take away the visual landmarks like the Mumbai trains, and those
women resigned to fate could be from a small town too. And the themes could fit
into pretty much any country. It is fascinating to see the manner in which
those themes remain universal despite the cultural and locational specificities
in this telling.

The title may suggest
that this is a film about apathetic, impersonal cities. That is the more
obvious subject matter, but the film is really about people who live life and
live out relationships like automatons, people who are afraid to exit their
comfort zones, including those for whom life in its entirety is a regret-filled compromise –
unless fate intervenes.

Segment 1 titled “Fun
Committee” is about corporate zombie Suyash Chaturvedi (Vinay Pathak) winning a
day off from work, with a ‘fun’ schedule planned down to the last T by his
office’s HR department. He is supposed to relax and enjoy himself, but if he
does not comply with the detailed directives issued to him, he will be
penalised by the management.

Next comes “The Ghost in
the Machine” featuring a middle-class housewife called Sarita Joshi (Amruta
Subhash) whose husband is in hospital hooked to life support systems. To ease
the family’s tension, she purchases a TV, a distraction her despotic husband
did not allow in the house. They get hooked on the tele-soap Purushottam when they receive some good
news.

Meanwhile, in the city’s
poorer quarters in “Contact”, Aarti Patel (Tannishtha Chatterjee) works at a printing
press. She is a quiet, uncomplaining sort, but a sense of dissatisfaction with
her dull existence is growing inside her when she receives an intimate letter one day.

Most viewers expect the
individual strands in multi-strand films to intersect at some point. In the best films of this genre, the sub-sets can stand on their own even if the plot does not connect them. Many
filmmakers feel compelled to link them, sometimes doing so to brilliant effect,
sometimes awkwardly. Island City’s three tales are linked smoothly, thematically and by plot.

“Fun Committee” and “The
Ghost in the Machine” are based on stories by Oberoi, “Contact” is by Siddharth
Sharma. The screenplay is Oberoi’s. On the face of it, these are simple
stories, yet they are filled with keen insights wrapped around existential
questions. On the face of it these are oft-visited topics, but they are
elevated by Oberoi’s incisive writing and her cast.

Boring ol’ Suyash is a
role tailormade for Pathak who is adept at playing the common person, but that does
not translate into a predictable performance. The actor lends enough nuances to
his character to take him to places we are not expecting. I particularly
enjoyed hearing him address a senior as “Sir”, giving the word a slight accent
that made it sound comically deferential.

Chatterjee is aptly cast
as Aarti in Story 3 and finds a perfect foil in the dynamic Chandan Roy Sanyal
playing her egoistic fiancé Jignesh who seems comfortable with her primarily
because he is convinced that she is too unattractive and unadventurous to ever
draw the attention of or be drawn to another man. Sanyal is one of the finest
character actors in contemporary Hindi cinema and it is a pleasure to see him
in a substantial role that does justice to his charisma.

Acting, writing, satirical
comedy and pathos – it all falls into place in their story, the most unapologetically
impertinent of the lot. The juxtaposition of Sarita’s strained marriage against
a TV show about an ideal husband, for instance, cheekily implies that such men
can be found only in the imagination of soap scriptwriters. The relationship between
the two women is especially intriguing because the filmmaker leaves us guessing
about whether they are mother and daughter or mother-in-law and daughter-in-law.
The old lady lives with Sarita and her husband, which, if you go by Indian
custom, suggests that she is the ma-in-law. Sarita addresses her as Aai, the
Marathi word for mother, though that could be in keeping with that other Indian
convention, of treating your in-laws as parents. But their attachment is far
removed from the antagonism stereotypically assumed to be a hallmark of all real-life
saas-bahurishtas, nor do they share an unbelievably syrupy equation of the
kind often shown in silly serials such as the one they are currently watching.
So are they maa-beti or saas-bahu? Either way, they come across
as buddies and co-conspirators with great empathy and affection for each other.
This is an enjoyable instance of female bonding not seen often enough in Indian
cinema.

That said, Island City is a well-woven whole. Sarita’s
saga is the most overtly entertaining of the three. The other two take some
time to reveal their verve, then amply reward viewer patience with the shock
value of “Fun Committee” and the unexpected (tragic) twists in “Contact”.

Oberoi does not alter
her seemingly laidback though assured directorial manner in any segment, but
the production design by Krishnendu Chowdhury and cinematography by Sylvester
Fonseca are cleverly used to give each one a distinctive look. The steely
shades of “Fun Committee” lend to it a slightly surreal, futuristic feel, to go
with its deliberately exaggerated swipes at corporate India and its farcical
tone. “The Ghost in the Machine” is warmly lit in Purushottam and in Sarita’s house, to be contrasted with the cold colours
of the hospital where her husband now lies and the flashback to the time when
he was well. “Contact” has grimy shades, much like the garbage spills Aarti
passes on her way to her dreary work.

Island City was premiered last year at the world’s oldest known
film fiesta, the Venice Film Festival, where it won an award for Best Debut
Director. The honour is well deserved. Ruchika Oberoi’s understated style,
on-point writing and sense of humour are significant new additions to the
Indian cinemascape. Island City is a
sorrowful yet amusing, acutely observant film.

No comments:

Post a Comment

About Me

Anna MM Vetticad is an award-winning journalist, journalism teacher and author of the critically acclaimed bestseller The Adventures of an Intrepid Film Critic, an overview of the Hindi film industry presented through an account of a year in which she watched every single Bollywood film released in India’s National Capital Region. A journalist since 1994, she has worked with India Today, The Indian Express and Headlines Today. At HT she hosted her own interview show Star Trek which drew all India’s eminent entertainment personalities. While Anna has spent most of her career as a behind-the-scenes editorial person, she has also reported on most major Indian entertainment and lifestyle events and several international ones including Cannes and the Oscars, in addition to being the film critic for Headlines Today. She is currently reporting and writing for multiple publications on cinema and social issues with a focus on gender concerns. The Adventures of an Intrepid Film Critic is available on amazon.com, ebay.in, flipkart.com, ombooksinternational.com, ombooks.com, infibeam.com, homeshop18.com and dialabook.in among other websites, and in stores across India. Twitter: @annavetticad